Stars on Fire
by Remnant Stars
Summary: Peggy and Sousa drabbles.
1. Chapter 1

**Sousa drabble because I adore him. Written in haste, posted without a reread. Sorry for the mistakes. Took some liberties with Sousa's background, cause Steve Rogers _did _save Peggy's future husband. Obviously, I'm hoping that will be Sousa!**

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Thompson accused him of carrying a torch for her. He figured that might be true. But he'd been carrying it for far longer than they assumed. He'd known Steve, though he could never have called him more than an acquaintance. The man had saved his life, had lent a sympathetic ear to his woes and heard his hopes for the future. The dreams and fears of a virtual stranger. And perhaps it was Daniel's own candid reveal, but Daniel had heard of Steve's own in return. He'd heard of his frustration at his early role in the war, as a symbol and figurehead rather than making any real impact in the war. And he'd heard all about Peggy Carter, a woman who'd meant nothing to Daniel, and yet it was clear Steve had been besotted with her.

And Daniel had wished deep in his heart for the woman that Steve Rogers described, brave and selfless and strong and compassionate and the dozen other things that he described. Of course he'd hoped for a woman like Peggy, not the exact woman. He'd never have wished Steve's fate on anyone, though he wasn't sure of the specifics. But he could see the anguish in Peggy's eyes when she spoke of him in the past tense. Steve was dead. And Daniel was left with a heavy burden of guilt.

He'd become aware of Peggy through propaganda footage of the war, but he'd known her through Steve. And when he'd heard that there was a woman joining the SSR he'd had a very different reaction than the other men on their team. Well, maybe not entirely different. He'd felt the innate need to keep her safe, whoever the woman was because of her gender. But he'd very little doubt that she belonged in the SSR, if only because she'd come highly recommended with the referral of a Colonel no less.

It was a punch to the gut when he realized that Agent Margaret Carter was none other than Steve's Peggy. It was hard to swallow that he was immediately attracted to her in a way that shamed him. She belonged to a dead hero, a man that had saved his life. But she was everything that Steve described and more. He found it easy to love her, even if she could see no man past the ghost of Steve that was always in front of her. And why would she want him? He was broken, half a man and less than that when compared to the heroic but tragic hero Captain America.

Sometimes he had hope. When she talked of Steve as just a man rather than a hero. When she talked of his flaws as if they were endearing, and idly stroked the old photograph they had of Steve before the Super Soldier Serum was injected into his veins. Peggy loved more than just the image. But would she ever love anyone else?

Her betrayal was nothing less than heartbreaking. He might have handled it better if he hadn't been half in love with her. His actions and words were the result of his anger and hurt. It was vindictive and childish to lash out like he did, to accuse her of things he'd never previously believed she'd ever been capable of. But it hurt, God did it hurt that she'd chosen someone like Howard _Fucking _Stark over him. And he couldn't help but laugh at his own blindness. Of course he'd never had a chance in the first place. But his bleeding heart had yearned and no one was surprised when he'd been burned.

Her complete confession of the events from her perspective created a greater turmoil within him. She'd called the SSR to give him the credit for the recovery of Stark's inventions. That had to mean something, didn't it? She at least thought he was worth something. But was it pity? Was it because of a shared sense of isolation at their own deficiencies?

One thing was certain, he couldn't hide the relief he felt when she'd stared at them all with condemnation at the suggestion that she and Howard were anything more than friends with a shared past. Even if it had taken awhile to truly believe her. Even if he wanted so badly to believe her that Thompson stared at him as if he'd lost his mind. Lost his heart, yes. But he hoped that even when it came to Peggy he could maintain a little perspective. Even when she'd said he placed her on a pedestal. Maybe he did. He never would again.

His unshakeable faith in Peggy would never be as blind. His heart still might bear the marks of her mistrust, but she'd only proven how truly remarkable she was. And how deep her commitment to Steve Rogers' memory went.

One thing would remain certain. He was willing to wait for Peggy Carter.

**Thanks for reading!**

**P.S. Title inspired by William Shakespeare's Hamlet.**

_**Doubt thou the stars are fire,  
Doubt that the sun doth move,  
Doubt truth to be a liar,  
But never doubt I love**_

**Always loved that one. Obviously the title isn't exact, but I liked it.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Another drabble from Peggy's POV, set late in the season sometime before the finale. Warning: Peggy is OOC. Thoughts of Sousa but distinctly Steve/Peggy.**

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He was no Captain America, but Sousa was something. To Peggy, Captain America had always been a symbol rather than a man. To her, it was always Steve that mattered. The man had remained the same despite his impressive physical transformation. And that was what was important to her. She'd never planned on falling for him. It had surprised her how easy it was to give her heart to a man that she'd just met. One thing she'd learned from her relationship with Steve or rather, lack thereof, was that she would never give her heart so easily again. They'd shared a single kiss, and a dozen awkward moments filled with unresolved tension. They'd shared mutual admiration, attraction and a hope for the future beyond the war. And it had all been for nothing. Only for her to end up with a heart so delicate that one more blow might shatter it. She'd gained a respect for justice, for right and wrong. But sometimes her pride, her morality and principles were not enough to keep her warm when she was alone at night. They weren't enough to stop the nightmares brought by the war, nightmares where Steve's lifeless eyes accused her from where he rested in his cold grave. Sometimes being a woman of duty was lonely.

If she'd truly wanted to, she could have seduced Thompson or half a dozen of the other men in the SSR. She could have taken comfort from Sousa, gained his sympathy, manipulated him until he was hers, only hers. But the thought of it made her sick. It was Daniel she stayed away from. Daniel with his apologetic eyes whenever Thompson called her Marge, or when another of the boys made a derogatory comment about her bust size, or called their sandwich order to her without lifting their eyes to actually acknowledge her presence. Daniel, who watched her with warm, dark eyes, and a yearning that she tried not to see. Who complimented her without hesitation, and was willing to stand up for her, despite the derision he received from everyone else. Because if she acknowledged what his behavior hinted at, then she would have to push him so far away he would forget it, or grow to hate her. Because her heart was still fragile, because Steve swam in her thoughts and invaded her dreams, and she couldn't forget him. She didn't want to forget him, not yet, maybe not ever.

But if she was being completely honest with herself, sometimes she was tempted. Even to ask him for a drink, to lose herself in someone's company she actually enjoyed. She wanted to brush back the stray curls from his forehead, to smooth out the worry lines on his brow and tell him everything was going to be okay. And she wanted the same in return, a reassurance that she was doing the right thing by trusting Howard Stark, by running around with Mr. Jarvis, by hiding her entire investigation from the SSR. For her it was about companionship, about validation and esteem. It was about too many lonely nights in her room, trying hard to convince herself she wanted this life.

And for Daniel it was about so much more. He looked at her like Steve did in those early days of the war. She glimpsed a dead man's expression on his face and it haunted her. He could love her, or convince himself he did if she let him. He could dream of white picket fences, of kids with her eyes and his wavy hair. And the idea was too tempting. She was so much more than what the world demanded of her. But she was also just a woman, born in a time where most of them were led to believe that being a housewife was the ideal dream. It wasn't just a dream, it was life's goal for far too many women. It held a certain appeal to Peggy, even if she immediately rejected it with deep shame. What would it be like, to marry Daniel, to settle into a role she'd be ill-suited for? Horrible, boring, disappointing, and yet. It could be happy, satisfying in a completely different way than her work at SSR. To love him and build him up, to be his shoulder to lean on, to matter so much to a person that without you, they might lose themselves.

She had to shake those thoughts away, doing so with a wry grin. It was much too early for those kind of thoughts. In fact those thoughts didn't even belong anywhere in her vicinity. She and Daniel were acquaintances, coworkers with a certain amount of respect for each other. She couldn't even call him a friend. But she'd always had a habit of running through every scenario, however unlikely. She just wondered why it was Daniel that stirred these thoughts.

He was handsome, and kind. He was far less ignorant than most of the men she'd met. He had a nice smile, and beautiful eyes. He believed that she belonged in the SSR more than anyone, excluding perhaps Howard and Jarvis. He treated her as much as an equal as he could, with the occasional protective urge that she tired hard not to be offended by. His war injury didn't bother her in the least, actually inspiring her admiration. It was physical proof that he'd fought for what he'd believed in. But then she'd remember Steve. The silly butterflies he could create with a single smile. The respect she'd felt for him, and received in turn. The rapid beating of her heart with a hasty kiss, the crushing heartache she'd experienced when she realized that he wouldn't be coming home; that they'd never get the dance he'd promised. She'd felt so much for him and the tentative feelings she felt for Sousa paled in comparison. If she initiated anything now, he would be a replacement. And she could never forgive herself for it if she hurt him. She never wanted anyone to feel what she did.

Peggy Carter was sensible above everything. She was strong, and levelheaded and dangerous. So she shoved the lonely nights away and reminded herself that she wasn't the only woman in the world facing confusion, and closed minds. She was more than capable of caring for herself, both before she'd met Steve and after. It was only the possibility he'd presented that made her question a life alone. It was only Daniel Sousa's gentle admiration that made her wish that she was made a little differently. But she wouldn't risk her career on a possibility. She couldn't open her heart to more anguish. She was too focused on doing what was right, rather than what would give her comfort. Saving people was her life's work. It was that thought that would give her comfort on nights where the dark was a little too oppressive. It was her only option.


	3. Chapter 3

This starts off with no dialogue (sorry guys, I tend to run on with introspection) but it does end with conversation. And some hope for Sousa!

I have some ideas for more chapters, but nothing concrete. I do accept prompts so if you want to see something let me know!

Daniel's offer had been tentative, hopeful more than assured. Maybe that was why she'd rejected his offer to go out for a drink. Peggy told him of a friend she needed to meet. He'd almost convinced himself it was true, that her lies had stopped, at least when it came to something so insignificant. But there was always that doubt that stemmed from his dissatisfaction with himself. He wouldn't be surprised if she was only trying to be charitable with her offer of another time. Peggy was ruthless in many ways, but not unkind.

He was surprised when only a few nights later she'd asked him for a drink. Thompson had been standing next to him, and his eyebrows had raised in confusion. Daniel hadn't missed his quick glance from Thompson's capable legs to Daniel's own, but he'd ignored it. He couldn't suppress the smile on his face when Peggy rejected Thompson's offer to join them. She'd been cooler to Thompson since he'd taken the credit for solving the whole fiasco surrounding Howard Stark. She'd still been professional and polite but it lacked the warmth she greeted Sousa with. Daniel would bet anything that Thompson regretted his selfish actions. But he was now Dooley's official replacement, and while that wasn't surprising, it wasn't entirely deserved. Still, Daniel wasn't oblivious to the lingering looks Thompson shot Peggy when she wasn't looking. Looks that spoke of attraction and admiration and set him on edge. If Thompson hadn't been such an ass, would Daniel's chances be even more abysmal than they currently were? After their mission to Russia, they'd seemed to be friendly and it had made Daniel miserable in more ways than one.

But Thompson had made his decisions and Daniel was the one bringing Peggy out. It wasn't actually a date, just a drink after work with a coworker. But it signified friendship at least. And he'd never been able to call himself Peggy's friend with any confidence until now. They were joined by Peggy's friend and apparent roommate, Angie. Sousa was a little disappointed that his time alone with Peggy was interrupted but Angie was funny, if a little offbeat. And she made Peggy laugh, harder than Daniel had ever seen her laugh before, if he'd even seen anything but sardonic amusement from her. He finally saw a softer side of Peggy Carter, a girly sort of silliness displayed, influenced no doubt by the few drinks she'd consumed and Angie's presence. He was grateful for Angie, certain that Peggy would never have been as unreserved solely in his presence. And for the evidence that she'd truly been meeting a friend, to look at a place to stay, rather than simply letting him down gently.

It wasn't until about the third or fourth drink that he realized that maybe Angie wasn't only here for Peggy's sake. He finally noticed the nudges from Peggy to Angie whenever he looked towards the girl. He watched with dawning horror as Peggy tried to set them up, and not so subtly. Angie mentioned she wanted to see a show that Peggy clearly had no interest in, and neither did Sousa if he was being honest. And yet Peggy jumped on the opportunity, offering up Sousa as a replacement with unusual enthusiasm. Angie looked towards him with a sudden shyness she hadn't exhibited all night, and Daniel was left with a lump in his throat and a red face as he considered the best way to decline.

But Angie seemed to notice his reluctance, and she winked at him, her timidity a momentary lapse. He couldn't interpret the meaning of the wink, and he was left confused when Angie laughed off the offer with a wave of her hand. The topic was dropped quickly, and Sousa wasn't sure if she was pleased or dismayed by her failed attempt.

By the end of the night, Daniel was certain he would never figure any woman out, especially Peggy Carter. That wasn't her last attempt to set them up, and she tried with a persistence that was starting to give him a headache despite the numbing effect of the alcohol. And yet she looked, satisfied if not pleased, by his and Angie's dodges of her attempts. Almost as if she wanted him to say no, but the way she steered every conversation towards Angie and Sousa and a possible meeting sans Peggy made it clear she wanted them together. Whatever the case, Daniel was certain he might think twice of a drink offer if Angie was invited. He truly liked the girl, but was in no way interested in her romantically. In fact, she seemed like a little sister sort with her cheerful outlook on life and childlike enthusiasm for living that he found endearing. She was the opposite from Peggy in many ways, wearing her heart on her sleeve, and he found he appreciated the emotions Peggy displayed even more because of the infrequency of the occurrence. It was funny that Angie made Sousa appreciate Peggy more and not less. She was reserved but with a greater conviction than anyone he'd ever known. She was normally serious, so he cherished the moments of levity so much more. And a genuine smile or laugh was well worth the wait.

He offered to walk them home, or share a cab and Angie accepted eagerly. Peggy didn't seem too pleased by the offer, and he knew that she was not flattered by any attempt on his part to protect her. He admired her for it, but he could not change who he was. His father had always taught him that women were weaker, so they must be protected. And while he knew Peggy could take care of herself, better than he could really, he couldn't deny the instinct that was instilled in him. His father had also taught him that if you met the woman who you wanted to marry to cherish her, and listen to her above everyone. So if she truly insisted on going home without his presence he would not object, but she merely shook her head at Angie's pleading smile and waved down a taxi.

The building they went to was one Sousa recognized from the SSR's file on Howard Stark. The largest suite belonged to him, the whole building did but he lived in only one of the numerous suites and apartments. Sousa glared at the building with a rising sense of jealousy. Peggy and Howard were close, that could not be denied or changed for anything. He'd seen their familiarity with each other and resented it with a sense of shame. He knew Peggy wouldn't fall for Howard's charms, and yet the man was a well-known womanizer and charming as hell. What man wouldn't feel a little insecure in his presence? Especially Daniel with a job that wasn't the highest paying, and a leg that meant he wouldn't be winning any races, or surviving if he ever had to run for his life for very long.

Angie gestured to the building, gushing about it's amenities. He tried to appreciate the Cinderella aspect of it but his mood was soured even more by Angie's effusive praises of Howard Stark, and Peggy's nice friend Mr. Jarvis. Peggy shot down her enthusiasm with a retort about Howard's generosity stemming from guilt more than anything. Angie rolled her eyes. It was silent for a moment, Sousa contemplating the best way to get home after the cab drove away, impatient that he was taking so long. Peggy didn't look inclined to invite him inside, offering to call a car for him, which he adamantly refused. There was a lot of arguing, and the night wasn't exactly warm. His leg was beginning to throb from the chill and so he finally agreed. Peggy seemed to notice his discomfort but wisely said nothing and ordered him inside to wait.

She opted to use the phone in her room, leaving Angie and Sousa in the living room. He wondered if this was another attempt to set them up, but he didn't care. He would tell her the next day that he was not interested in Angie as anything more than a friend. Sousa settled himself gratefully in the overstuffed sofa, while Angie paced the room with an almost manic energy. She finally faced him, calling his name to gain his attention.

"She likes you." Angie stated, waiting expectantly for his reply.

Daniel laughed, hoping Peggy hadn't heard the ridiculous statement. "No, she doesn't. She loves Steve Rogers, and I'm not him." He said the last a little bitterly.

Angie rolled her eyes yet again. "Well, of course she loved him! But he's gone." She paused a moment, her voice lowering as she looked towards the room with a sympathetic expression. "And she's come to terms with it, I know she has."

"And here I thought she wanted us to be together. I must have completely misunderstood her the entire evening."

Angie laughed, dismissing his comment. "Well she's not going to come out and say she likes you, is she? And she's afraid. Aren't we all afraid of something?" She nodded towards the room. "She's just trying to prove to herself that she doesn't care about you, that you don't care about her."

Daniel shook his head, unconvinced. Before he could argue the point Peggy entered the room, smiling brightly and announcing that a car would be there shortly. Angie warned him to remain silent with a glare and he was forced to stand and walk towards the door. All in an attempt to avoid looking at Peggy, for fear that he would study her for any sign that she did feel something for him that was more than friendship. He was afraid that he would find nothing, dashing any hope he nursed too deep to acknowledge.

Peggy walked him down, Angie complaining of a sudden headache and retired before either of them could wish her good night. The silent walk down was broken by their footsteps and the knock of his cane against the floor. He was self-conscious of the noise and couldn't find anything to say that wouldn't look like an obvious attempt to direct attention away from it. Peggy was looking resolutely ahead of them, and he was able to study her profile in the bright lighting.

The car was waiting for him so there was little time for goodbye. Sousa muttered a hasty 'goodbye', not exactly expecting a response. Peggy stopped his retreat with a hand laid gently on his arm.

"Daniel, I had a good time. Thank you." She smiled to convey her sincerity.

Daniel's heart sped up, the feel of her hand against his arm burning itself into his memory. "Goodnight Peggy. I had...fun." He smiled sardonically at the memory of her attempts to bring Angie and him together.

Peggy laughed, aware of the direction of his thoughts, conceding with a nod. "We should do this again, _without_ Angie."

"I'd like that," he finally said, after a moment of genuine shock.

"Goodnight Daniel."

He slid into the car with some difficulty but for once he wasn't self-conscious. She'd given him hope, and he wondered if he wouldn't have to wait for Peggy as long as he'd assumed.


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry I haven't posted for awhile. And you're probably not going to be happy I did after this chapter. I was compelled to write this after rewatching CA:TWS and the scene with Peggy and Steve. I have another chapter written with Angie's POV of their night out if anyone is interested. But I felt it was too much of a rehash of the last two chapters to really be worth posting. Nothing really new in it. Anyway, I'm still adding chapters to this, just sporadically and when the mood hits. **

**Just want to let everyone know who hasn't read my profile, this is a series of oneshots, related but not posted in any sort of consistent timeline. This chapter makes that very clear.**

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He was older than she remembered. So much older than she'd realized. But then, so many moments were now lost to her. Some days she could remember the way his dark hair curled so many years ago, when her fingers smoothed his unruly hair with affection. When they were young enough to be madly in love and old enough to realize that simple moments together could not last forever. That either of them could die in their mission to keep the world safe.

She'd loved him passionately, her Daniel. There had been no one for her but him, his shy smile, the mischievous spark in his eyes. Steve Rogers had been all but forgotten then. Daniel Sousa had become her everything. He'd been sweet and attentive, and utterly maddening in his chivalrous way. They'd fought and loved in equal measure, regard and affection turning to passion and devotion faster than she could have anticipated. His injury had become a part of him, just another physical aspect of the body she grew to know as well as her own. He'd shied away from her perusal the first time she'd viewed him, naked and laying in her bed. Because it was always going to be her bed, everything within her control.

But he'd grown to trust her with time. To trust that she'd never considered any part of him repulsive, just as she knew he'd felt the same. He thankfully wasn't surprised to find that he was her first. Not her first kiss to be sure. Not the first man she'd ever seen naked. The war had more than taken care of her modesty at male nudity. Too many men needed help to wither under a false sense of propriety. He hadn't been the first man to see her naked either, though the circumstances were entirely different. But there was nothing clinical in his perusal of her body, not like the doctor's sharp eye. He'd been her first lover, though not the first man she'd ever loved. That title belonged to Steve, and she wouldn't have it any other way despite Daniel's flinch anytime he was reminded of it. She'd loved Steve with abandon, with a desperation in their last conversation that bordered on obsession. His death had nearly broken her.

She was cautious with Daniel, only ceding her heart to him when she was sure that he felt entirely the same, perhaps torturing him with her hesitance. He admitted he loved her far sooner than she even considered the possibility that she might love him in return. But she wouldn't have had it any other way. Steve had taught her to love, but also to be cautious. Daniel had taught her to love without hesitation, to embrace love even if it was guaranteed to hurt one day, when she lost him or vice versa. In many ways, there would be no Daniel without Steve. She might have been convinced into a normal civilian lifestyle if the drive to continue Steve's dream hadn't compelled her to reject the easier path. Steve hadn't in his last moments. And then she never would have joined the SSR, never have met Daniel.

A life without Daniel would have been empty, entirely less meaningful. He was her rock, the person that reminded her to let go of work and enjoy life. He was warm and affectionate, even when she hadn't been sure how to be. His smile melted her resolve, made her breath catch if she let it. His kisses had been a lulling drug, causing her to forget the world from the taste of his lips, from the innocent catch in his breath when they both began to lose their breaths. The feel of his skin against hers was the greatest kind of torture, even the twisted scars became a familiar kind of madness. The reminder that it was Daniel, always Daniel beside her in their bed. Her body would always belong to him and no one else. And in time, the open wound that belonged to Steve Rogers healed under his careful ministration. Her heart belonged to him entirely, for so many years.

Then he'd died. It wasn't entirely unexpected, though she never would have been prepared for it. She could say she was grateful that he went in his sleep, when he could have died so many times before from deaths far more gruesome. Some part of her was grateful, another, greater part of her was destroyed by waking up by his side. By reaching for him as she had every morning and finding his skin chilled. By kissing his cheek, his lips, and gaining no response from her usually affectionate husband. She'd known, the moment she'd woken up. He'd always been the one to wake her in their retirement years. Always the one to shower her with affection, even when she'd only grumbled at being woken so early. She'd known when he hadn't stirred at the sleepy call of his name. "Daniel?" Said with such affection after so many years of saying it with every type of emotion behind it. Then, it had held only a deep abiding love for her husband.

It should have been a comfort that they hadn't fought the night before, or for many nights previous. It should have been a comfort that the last words from his lips had been the same as every night. "Goodnight Peggy. I love you. Sweet dreams." Words that held a depth of genuine emotion, even if they were repeated endlessly.

But there was nothing that could have comforted her in that moment, when her cries had been pitiful sobs that wracked her body. She'd called someone, her son, or daughter, or niece maybe, as her children lived a distance away. And she was certain the words from her mouth had made little sense. Her only thought was that there hadn't been enough time together. That they should have had more time, that Daniel shouldn't have left her so soon. And she'd had the sympathy of whatever colleagues had still been alive. She'd had their condolences, their understanding, but it hadn't been enough. Not when Daniel was no longer by her side. Not when she had to watch his casket being lowered in the ground and wishing she'd been by his side.

She'd heard of couples dying within months, days, even hours of each other from broken hearts. And she'd wished for that desperately. She'd missed Daniel with every aching beat of her heart. Until she hadn't.

It had started slow, the loss of her memories. She didn't care what label they put on it, she only knew that one day she woke up to the thought of Daniel, as she did every morning, and forgot what colour eyes he had. They were blue weren't they? Or were they brown? It had been terrifying but she'd gone to see a specialist. She'd had hope that whatever time she had remaining could be salvaged. But the disease was progressive, stealing Daniel from her piece by piece, cherished memory by cherished memory. Until his face became hazy, until some days, her_ worst _days, she forgot that she'd ever been married. Until memories of Steve, a love long lost, began to overtake him. She didn't know the reason why. But the days she remembered, when she could see his face the night before his death as clear as day, were heartbreaking. Daniel, her Daniel. She'd been the only woman he'd ever loved, and he'd been the last man she'd loved, the man she'd loved the longest by decades. And she was forgetting him in favor of Steve.

She cried, cursing her own failing mind, her traitorous heart that beat for memories of a man long taken from her. It was as if the disease was working backwards, tearing apart her memories from the end to the start. Some days there was only the war, Colonel Phillips, Howard, and of course, Steve. Some days it was as if she'd never met Daniel. And she could see the hurt in her niece's eyes, a niece that had loved Daniel as a second father. She could see the resentment the young woman harbored for the ghost that had stolen her aunt away. And on her worst days, she couldn't understand it. It made her lucid days more unbearable, to remember Daniel with such clarity, knowing that the day would end and she would lose him once more.

But there were days like today. When the young man she'd fallen in love with couldn't hold a candle to the man she'd grown old with. When she could almost reach out and stroke the lines on his face that endeared him to her. When her Daniel had returned for moments long enough to cherish, with a tender smile and familiar words. When his voice followed her into her dreams and filled her heart. "Goodnight Peggy. I love you. Sweet dreams."

Margaret "Peggy" Carter died on such a night. Her niece found her in her last moments, with a smile and Daniel's name on her lips.

**Please don't hate me. Thanks for reading! Hopefully no one is offended by this chapter. I'm not familiar with Alzheimer's and I apologize for any inconsistencies. While it does say that Peggy has children in the Marvel wiki (movie universe wiki) it seems that she is close to her niece in the Winter Soldier so Sharon Carter has more prevalence. Maybe her kids are even dead at this point, who knows? **


	5. Chapter 5

**I'm going wildly AU with this one (and maybe wildly OOC too?) Took me a few months to finish this one. Lost any urge to write a few months back and stalled on anything I was currently working on. I have no beta so all mistakes are my own. Sorry!**

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Pregnancy was not kind to Peggy Carter. Yes, her name was still Peggy _Carter_, despite her marriage to her adoring husband. Peggy Carter was a name that commanded respect, was well-known despite the fact that she was a woman, or maybe because of it. Peggy Sousa, that had a nice ring to it, caused her to sigh in equal parts resignation and wishful thinking. But Daniel was in agreement that having his name professionally would be detrimental to her career and even dangerous if anyone wanted to use him against her, or the other way around. There were very few people in their world that were even aware they were married until she'd started showing. Then the issue had been unavoidable. You couldn't hide away for six months without someone asking questions. And she didn't want to. Having Daniel's child became one of her greatest joys next to marrying him.

And Daniel was beyond ecstatic at the news. She'd been hesitant to tell him, not because she'd feared he'd be upset, but because of her own reservations about being pregnant when she was still needed to run the SSR. It was no longer in it's fledgling stage, truly becoming a power to be feared, at least by the criminals of the world. But so much of herself was invested in the organization, and the people that had joined it. She hadn't wanted to leave it for even the length of her pregnancy or heaven forbid, the first years of their child's life.

But Daniel's reaction had been so endearing.

The weather was fair, slightly windy but the sky was clear and sunny. Daniel had been swearing at their front gate that he was currently trying to repair. She could see from the tense set of his shoulders and pained expression that his leg was bothering him but he'd proven to be a stubborn man, both in his pursuit of her and in everyday life.

"Daniel, I've made something for you to eat, if you're ready for a break." She'd phrased it as a request, hoping that he wouldn't be insulted at the implication he needed rest. But Daniel wasn't a stupid man. Just an obstinate one.

"Not until I'm finished this damn gate," he growled, even as the pain in his leg was bordering on unbearable.

"Daniel," Peggy sighed, her hand going to her stomach at the sudden wave of nausea. "Please."

He froze at the vulnerability in her tone, turning towards her with a questioning glance. "You okay, Peggy?"

She smiled at the sudden turn from irritable to concerned. Her Daniel, always ready to jump to her assistance, even when it wasn't warranted. "I'm fine, Daniel. I just wanted to enjoy a meal with you. Heaven knows we get far too few of those." Shared meals was a luxury they often didn't get to enjoy with both of them working constantly and traveling often. Especially Peggy. She frowned at that thought, knowing that despite Daniel's capability in the field, his injury was looked on with a sort of censure. He often did desk work, and absolutely resented it. Thankfully he didn't resent her, knowing that she held no doubt about his abilities. Convincing others of their ignorance wasn't something she'd had much luck with. Still she could admit that it eased her mind to know that he was as safe as anyone could be in their field of work.

Daniel grimaced in apology. "You're right, of course." He got to his feet with difficulty, Peggy resisting the urge to run to his side and help him.

Still, she waited for him as he limped towards her, his crutch resting against the front porch. She held it out to him, and if it were anyone else, he might have scowled at the gesture. Instead he smiled at her.

"Thank you, Peggy." He climbed the steps and leaned in for a kiss, distracting her completely.

He smelled of sun and sweat, the shirt he was wearing was plastered to his back but she didn't mind. She slid her arms carefully around his chest, making sure not to hit his crutch, sliding her hands up his back and holding him to her. Daniel's free arm wrapped around her hips, holding her in place.

Daniel pulled away after a moment with reluctance. "Sorry, I'm all sweaty."

Peggy smirked. "Oh? I hadn't noticed."

Daniel smiled, dropping a quick kiss to her nose before resting his forehead against hers. "I love you." he said casually.

Peggy sighed in contentment. "I love you too, Daniel."

Her response never ceased to earn a smile from him. He adjusted his crutch, offering her an arm. She smiled at the chivalrous gesture and slid her arm through his. She didn't comment when he leaned slightly against her.

Dinner was already on the table. Cooking wasn't Peggy's greatest strength. She'd kept it simple, anything elaborate needed at least a day of preparation, both to buy ingredients and for her many failed attempts. Daniel teased her often about her abysmal efforts but he'd always eaten everything she set before him, claiming it was the greatest thing she'd made yet. And maybe it was. She was sure to be improving, wasn't she?

"Mmmm..." Daniel looked in his bowl eagerly, his face clouding in confusion. "Soup?"

Peggy rolled her eyes. "It's homemade stew. We had a lot of leftovers." She sat down across from him and lifted her bun towards him in triumph. "I even made the buns, with that recipe your mother gave me."

Daniel appeared suitably impressed, smiling indulgently as he sat down. "I can't wait."

Peggy tried her soup/stew first, always a tacit agreement between them. It wasn't half bad, needing a little more flavor. But that was what salt was for. She waited eagerly for Daniel to try his, watching his expression. It was the same as usual. He smiled in reassurance, took the biggest bite he could manage and chewed and swallowed.

"Well?" Peggy asked impatiently.

"The best sou...er...stew you've ever made." he announced, reaching absently for the salt and sprinkling some in before taking another bite.

Peggy beamed. She knew he was being kind. Daniel was nothing but indulgent, but he was also honest with her when she needed to hear it. Yes, this was her first attempt at stew, and maybe it was a little too thin to truly be considered 'stew' but Daniel liked it. She could tell by the way he was eating, no pauses before bites, no hard swallow as if preparing himself mentally. Yes, Daniel was always honest, with actions if not words.

She ate a few bites but watched him carefully, waiting for him to eat one of the buns she'd made. She was truly nervous about his reaction to this one. He'd always raved about his mother's baking, and Peggy had recently had the pleasure of trying it. If she didn't possess a strong sense of discipline, Peggy was certain she'd now weigh over two hundred pounds. The woman was a genius with an oven. Peggy had been assured that the recipe she'd been supplied with was infallible. But following recipes wasn't something she had much luck with. At least, not usually on the first attempt. It surprised her that her first attempt had seemed to work out. They looked lovely and smelled even more so, golden and buttered until they gleamed. She would be honestly devastated if she read any of Daniel's tells that showed he didn't enjoy her cooking but would grin and bear it for her sake. Those had been happening less and less and it boosted her confidence. Until a few months ago, Daniel had been doing most of the cooking, proving he shared some of his mother's skill. But Peggy was trying, not trying to mold herself in any way into the stereotypical housewife image, but hoping to at least be able to share the cooking duties with her husband. And Daniel let her try.

Finally Daniel picked up a bun, humming in appreciation at how delicious they smelled. He gave her an encouraging smile and took a bite. She was surprised as his eyes closed and he moaned in appreciation.

"Do you like them?" Peggy asked with a hint of weakness that she hated. She was strong and independent but that didn't mean she didn't like to cook for Daniel, to provide for him as equally as he provided for her. They were partners and she would not admit defeat in any aspect of that.

"Peggy," her name came out on a sigh. "These are better than my mother's." His eyes widened. "But don't tell her I told you that!"

Peggy's laugh was equal parts amusement and relief. She blamed her mood swings on the sudden changes her body was undergoing, on the baby only she was aware of. It was the only reason her laugh turned into a relieved sob, Daniel's chagrin turning to panic as he rushed to her side.

"What's wrong? Peggy?" Daniel was crouched in front of her, on his knees as he tried to get her to look at him. She could barely see his face past the tears she tried to blink away. "Peggy, please. What's going on? I know the last mission was rough, but the last couple days..." Daniel looked lost, confused at the abrupt change he'd noticed in his wife in the past week. Peggy's days of secrecy were long over, but he knew she was hiding something from him. Her sudden bout of tears was enough to make him anxious.

Peggy had no speech planned, so she told him point blank. "I'm pregnant Daniel." Her eyes filled with fresh tears and she swallowed back a sob as she watched for his reaction. Holding the secret for even two days had been difficult, the suspicion lingering at the back of her mind for far longer than she wanted to admit.

He looked stunned, but slowly a smile spread across his face. Her tears dried at the evidence of his joy, Daniel leaning forward and pulling her into a kiss.

He pulled away from her, cupping her face in his hands and staring at her with sudden apprehension. "Are you happy, Peggy? Do yo-do you want a baby?"

Peggy hadn't let herself dwell on what a baby would mean beyond the detriment to her career. But with Daniel watching her with equal parts joy and dread, she forced herself to really consider it. She was having a baby, Daniel's baby. And the thought terrified her. Could she really be a mother? Would she be a good one? She had no doubt Daniel could and would be a good father. But motherhood wasn't something she'd allowed herself to think about, except fleetingly.

"Peggy?" Daniel was still waiting for her response, anxiety replacing the joy.

"I'm...happy." She spoke hesitantly, searching her own feelings and realizing that she wasn't lying. "I'm happy." she spoke with conviction, a smile spreading across her face. "We're having a baby, Daniel."

"We're having a baby!" Daniel exulted, pulling her into a tight squeeze. It wasn't until Peggy felt the wetness against her neck that she realized Daniel was crying.

She pulled away, concerned. "Is everything all right, Daniel?"

He nodded once, cupping her face in his palms. "I've never been happier, Peggy. I love you so much."

She blushed at the intensity of his stare. She'd never been one to display her emotions easily, and Daniel was the opposite, showering her with affection. Rather than make her feel uncomfortable, she was surprised at how much she enjoyed the feeling of being...loved and in love.

"I love you too, Daniel." she smiled and pushed the stray hairs back from his face. Hairs that stubbornly seemed to curl over his brow. She adored them and him. "I thought I was supposed to be the hormonal one," she teased.

Daniel faked a wounded expression. "Do you know how scared I've been the past week? How scared everyone at S.H.I.E.L.D. has been? We've all been walking on eggshells in case you shoot one of us."

Peggy giggled, looking suddenly mortified at the very undignified noise. "Daniel! It can't have been that bad!"

He smirked and nodded. "Yes it can Peggy. I've barely been able to sleep, fearing you'd smother me in our bed." He frowned. "I really should have figured it out sooner."

"And how could you have figured it out, when I didn't even know at first?" Peggy queried. She kissed away the creases in his brow and helped him to his feet. "You need to finish your dinner before it gets cold."

Daniel grinned at her. "Already acting maternal. You'll make a great mother, Peggy."

"You think so?"

"Of course. You take care of everyone you work with." Daniel dismissed her concerns easily, having more confidence in her than she had in herself. Still, the doubt lingered and it must have shown on her face. "Peggy, I'll be there every step of the way. We'll both make mistakes, we'll both learn. Our kids will be loved, and I think that's the most important part, don't you?"

Peggy nodded, feeling a little easier knowing that even if she made mistakes, Daniel would be there. They'd figure it out together.

"Thank you Daniel. I might have been a little out of sorts this week, but you're right. I love our baby already. We'll figure it out."

"Of course we will," Daniel said indulgently. "You're Peggy Carter. You could take out the entire SSR with one arm tied behind your back. What's one little baby?"

Peggy took that moment to vomit in her bowl of stew.

**Sorry if it seems unfinished but I wanted to leave it there. Thanks for reading! I keep getting fluffier and fluffier with these drabbles XD**


	6. Chapter 6

**So this one is not related to my other chapters. It's completely inspired by the news that Sousa is going to be Chief in season 2! Oops, I hope no one is upset that I gave that away, although if you follow news of the show it's not exactly a secret. I've created my own back story for Sousa so of course this is another wildly AU chapter. Maybe we'll find out that his father was the greatest dad in existence, but he isn't here. Nor is he incredibly terrible either...**

**I'll apologize for the mistakes or any inconsistencies as I have no beta. I started this about an hour ago and I really wanted to publish it before I go to sleep. Also, I'm not a fan of Thompson and it shows.**

* * *

He'd had hope. It been a fragile thing, a thin tendril of feeling he'd dared to nurture. It had given him a confidence he'd lacked before, something he'd once had but had gotten lost along with his status as a capable man. Caused of course by his injury. The rest of the men in the SSR looked on him with a sort of pity, a bare-bones respect for what he'd sacrificed for the country they all loved. His confidence had never been something to be taken for granted, earned by his own determination, a constant struggle against his own perceived inadequacies. He'd been a shy child, an obedient one, and had thus been the apple of his mother's eye. His father had always looked on him with a puzzled expression or a disappointed one, perhaps uncertain how he could be the father of a child that was so unlike him in every way. Daniel had never been incapable physically of joining sports, but he'd had no interest in it. His father heavy-handed form of child-bearing always sat ill with Daniel. Daniel's back bearing the brunt of his father's brand of discipline. And maybe it was the only way Daniel could be in any way rebellious, but he never did join a team in high school, instead preferring to focus his attention on his academic pursuits. And his father had always groused about having a son that was weak, though Daniel had never been anything of the sort. The few boys who'd tried to bully him in school, shoving him, or even attempting to use him as a punching bag, often found that they'd made a huge error in judgment. Daniel did not enjoy sports, but that did not mean that he didn't enjoy other forms of physical activity. He was never the tallest in class, or the most heavyset, but he could hold his own in a fight. He could only be grateful that he hadn't often been the focus of ridicule or physical intimidation. The only time he'd complained of it to his father, the implication had been that he'd deserved whatever was said or done, that the taunts held truth within every venomous word.

As he'd grown, as his mother's affectionate love mirrored his father's stern indifference, Daniel discovered a need to become more than his father's forgotten son. It was too late to turn back time and become the jock his father had hoped for, but there were other ways to gain his father's approval. And even if the feeling sat heavy in Daniel's stomach, creating a schism between his desire to be his own man, and his need to make his father proud, he followed the silent urge. His father had fought in the first world war, young and impressionable, Daniel's mother his young sweetheart waiting for him at home. If Daniel's mother talked of the war at all, it was to mention only that Daniel's father had come back a different man, a harder one. And she'd loved him all the same, choosing to marry the boy-man who'd stared at her with a desperation in his eyes. When Daniel's father spoke of war, it was only to say that it made men of boys, that it had shown him the reality of the world. But he spoke of it with a certain fondness, pride shining in his words when he told a young Daniel of the people he'd saved, the fate he'd helped mold for future generations. Daniel's father had stopped speaking of his war days the older Daniel had grown, perhaps feeling that Daniel no longer deserved the stories.

Daniel thought long and hard about his decision, realizing that although his father's approval had influenced the decision, he truly wanted to make a difference. He wanted to help in any way he could. And he'd always dreamed of becoming a police officer, of keeping the streets safe. So he joined the army, straight out of college. He had a degree that was inconsequential to his service, but he proved himself very early to be disciplined, willing to follow orders and able to keep up with the physical demands of training. He was the ideal soldier, but he'd never been prone to taking a leadership role. By the time the United States joined the war, Daniel was one of the first to be shipped overseas.

And his father and mother had been there to see him off. His mother had cried, and it had hurt to see her distress and deny her pleas to _stay, please stay Danny_. It had been equally satisfying to see his father's usual brooding countenance worn down with concern, a measure of pride shining in his eyes for his son. He did not say such a thing out loud, merely slapped Daniel's shoulder and nodded at him in agreement. It was the last time Daniel saw his father, his death swift and sure as he slept at night. His father fell asleep while Daniel was overseas, fighting Hitler's Nazis, and he never woke up. But at least Daniel had the look in his eyes, the knowledge that his father died with no lingering animosity between them.

When he read the news, written in his mother's shaky handwriting days after his father had been laid to rest, Daniel had wept. He'd cursed God and heaven and fate and anything that could be to blame for his heartache. He'd hoped to come home to his father's smiling face, a smile that had faded long ago, reserved only for his mother. But the trenches of Europe were not a place to mourn, not for his father or for the thousands of men that died beside him. And when the accident happened, when he'd risked life and limb to save so many others, he'd pushed the grief far too deep to access.

The offer to join the SSR had come when he was lying in the hospital, the news of the liberation of the concentration camps filtering in over the static of the radio. And he'd had hope then, a burning desire to do more good, to help no matter what. He hadn't really let go of that hope, not in the days that followed when it was made clear that he was offered the job due to his past service, and with the understanding that his position was barely more than a glorified desk job. It was Jack Thompson that cracked the foundation of that hope, with his ill-concealed pity and low barbs aimed at his deficiencies.

Confidence had always been something he hadn't had in any abundance. A strong sense of right and wrong, yes, a drive to do better, yes, Daniel had those. But there had always been the niggling doubt in the recesses of his mind, borne by the disappointment in his father's eyes, and the taunts ringing in his ears from children and men he would never see again. His confidence was severely shaken by Jack Thompson and the men who were more than eager to gain his approval by taunting Daniel. He hated the weakness he viewed in himself, the amiability that forced him to laugh the insults off when they angered him.

And everything was made worse when Peggy Carter joined the SSR. He'd held her on a pedestal from the moment she'd entered the door. The following weeks only proving to him how worthy she was of retaining that space. Then she'd betrayed them all, and he'd had a hard time reconciling the woman he'd painted in his mind with the bitter woman who'd told them all off with a righteous indignation.

When the business with Howard Stark was said and done, when Peggy had been vindicated and the team properly chastened, Daniel could not resist the hope that tugged at him. Hope that hadn't been completely shattered by Jack Thompson, or the shadow of his father's ghost, or the dying groans of the men that had died by his side. Hope that Daniel could have everything he'd ever dreamed of. And Peggy Carter featured heavily in his dreams. It was the hope that boosted his confidence, that allowed him to take charge of the chaos that had become of the SSR after Dooley's death. All with the intention of getting everything settled, well and truly so that their lives could return to a semblance of normalcy. He'd earned commendations for his role, gained notice with his sure words on the events of the past weeks. And Daniel raved about Peggy's actions, tried to make certain she received the recognition she deserved, despite her rogue investigation. But it was all for nothing. No one was ready for a woman as their chief. And somehow, despite the eager protests of both Thompson and himself, Daniel found himself as Chief.

But first, he'd accomplished what he'd been steeling his nerves for from the moment Peggy had stepped in the same building. He'd asked her out for a drink. Daniel had seen it as a first step towards that dream. And though she hadn't immediately agreed, she'd kept the hope alive.

It was dashed with the news that he was to be Chief. No one would care if he had a relationship with Peggy. He'd get the expected ribbing, the slaps on the back and catcalling. But as for Peggy...her reputation would never recover. She would always be seen as the woman who'd slept with the boss to further her career, no matter how untrue that would be. No matter her capabilities as an Agent, no matter how clever and strong she was. And he could never do that to her.

* * *

"Daniel!" Peggy's voice broke his miserable contemplation, turning towards her smiling face. She quirked an eyebrow at his forced smile. "Is this a bad time?" she asked him.

"No! Never!" Daniel spoke with hurried assurance, cringing at his own eagerness to placate her.

Peggy smirked at the heat that spread across his face, her smile gentling at his clear embarrassment. "I just wanted to know if you still wanted to go for that drink? I have a free night, and with the move to Los Angeles next month, I'm feeling a little nostalgic for the beer that I've previously despised."

Daniel opened his mouth to agree, and yet his previous thoughts held him back. "Uh...another night?" he finally offered with a weak smile.

Peggy tilted her head, considering him with sharp eyes. "Do I sense a hint of reluctance?" she wondered.

"No...it's just...work." he offered lamely. Though Peggy knew as well as he did that they weren't currently working on anything that would warrant him turning her down. "Chief stuff," he assured her, though the lie tasted bitter on his tongue.

Peggy's eyebrows raised in sudden realization. "Daniel, if I were to ask you the same question next week would the answer remain the same?"

"Umm ..." He had no idea how to explain that he would love to take her up on her offer, that he wanted nothing more than to spend any free hour he had with her, but couldn't because it would raise too many eyebrows. She'd never been eager to be seen with any of the SSR Agents outside of work before. How would it look if she started now, and with him of all people? He knew she'd somehow come to terms with Steve Rogers' death. He knew she was only trying to be friendly, that she couldn't possibly feel the same way about him. But others wouldn't see it that way.

"Daniel," Peggy sighed, sadness causing the smile to slip from her lips. "I appreciate the thought, I really do. You're lovely, and you deserve to be Chief, you really do...but I'll damn well go out for a drink with whoever I feel like it. Especially if it's the one person whose shown me any ounce of kindness since I've been here that I didn't earn."

Daniel sighed in regret, a heaviness weighing on his shoulders that could almost be called grief. "When I asked you out for a drink, I never would have imagined that they would have chosen me to be Chief. I really didn't, but with this new position comes responsibilities that I can't ignore. I have a responsibility to all my Agents, including you. Maybe a reputation isn't such a worrisome thing to you," he hurried on as she winced at the implication that she didn't care about respectability, "because it shouldn't be! I know you're absolutely above reproach, and I'm sure everyone else knows it as well, but there would still be talk. There would be inferences that could never sit well with me."

Peggy had one hell of a poker face and he hated to see her shut him out. She nodded once. "Yes, sir."

And the two words stung worse than they should, Daniel wincing at the ice that veiled her words. "Peggy, I..." He wanted to tell her that he hated himself right now, that her indifference created an ache in him that would fester. But the words wouldn't come.

Her expression softened once again at the desperate thoughts he couldn't voice. "Daniel, it's okay. Maybe we can still get that drink with everyone else. Who can say anything then?"

Daniel nodded tersely, hope falling apart with her reassuring smile. "Yes, that sounds...nice."

"I'm glad." Peggy spoke with sincerity. "Thank you for looking out for me. I know it's your job, as you said, but you're a good friend." Daniel hoped she didn't see his flinch at the word 'friend', not that he was upset with it. That Peggy could consider him a friend was a blessing, but it was so much less than he wanted. Yes, hope was a tenuous thing, and it was crumbling before his eyes.

She turned away, and Daniel shoulder's dropped in resignation. She took a few steps away, Daniel staring at the carpeted floor with bitter acceptance. It was her hand on his shoulder that made him look up with surprise into her remorseful eyes. Peggy shocked him with a kiss on the cheek, her lips soft and warm against his skin. He barely had a moment to savor it before she was stepping away. "Thank you Daniel. You're a good man." She hesitated, searching his expression. "I would have liked to know you better." Her eyes held her meaning with warm affection and tempered regret.

He swallowed, his throat tight. "I would have liked that too."

Peggy nodded once. She squeezed his arm. "You're going to make a brilliant Chief," her expression was fierce. "I never doubted you could do this job for one second." Finally she turned on her heel again and walked away. Peggy looked back at the end of the hallway, offering one last smile. Daniel watched his hope walk out the door.

He allowed himself one moment of weakness, his shoulders shaking with anger and grief before he pulled himself together. Peggy was right. He would be the best damn Chief the SSR had ever seen.

**Sorry guys. I know it's kind of terrible but I thought of this when I heard that Sousa was going to be Chief in season 2. After I got over my genuine excitement at the idea, I realized that this probably meant that whatever chance he had with Peggy was pretty much over. Women weren't exactly well-respected in the workforce during the 40s and I'm sure that if Sousa and Peggy were actually to date that snide remarks would be said all around. I hope I'm wrong, but the thought wouldn't leave me alone. I promise the next one will be lighter! And I promise to try and make Sousa a little less vulnerable and angsty. **

**Please review and let me know what you thought! **


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